The Christmas Storm
by tiny-turtle-7
Summary: Christmas goes slightly less than planned for Tony (and Gibbs) after thunderstorms roll through DC and knock out Tony's power. Although, somehow by the end, they're not minding the power outage at all.


**Hey, Christmas may be eight months away still, but the season is never truly over. Please let me know if you want a sequel to this.**

* * *

 **Christmas goes slightly less than planned for Tony (and Gibbs) after thunderstorms roll through DC and knock out Tony's power. Although, somehow by the end, they're not minding the power outage at all.**

* * *

 _Christmas Morning_

 _Apartment 2C_

 _Washington, District of Columbia, United States of America_

 _0924 A.M._

The strong thunderstorms that had rolled through the area early on Christmas morning had left several trees down and power knocked out to many residences… including Tony DiNozzo's apartment. He grumbled as he flipped the flashlight he had fumbled for during the worst of the storm on and attempted to move out to the kitchen, hoping to gain some light from the outside world. _It could be worse,_ he thought. _At least I'm not a parent who had to figure out Santa and severe thunderstorms on Christmas Eve._ He laughed dryly. Then cursed as he tripped over the doorjamb.

When he got to the kitchen, he leaned over the sink and popped open the shades on the window above the sink. Peering out into the small view he had of the courtyard and the parking lot, he groaned once again this morning. Several downed wires rested on the ground amidst a downed tree and myriad other storm debris. The sky was still dark with December morning clouds. "Great," he said aloud. "Really, really, great Christmas." Tony turned back to the kitchen and took stock of the situation. _No power, no refrigerator. Damn._ He opened the refrigerator door and removed the items that could spoil and placed them on the counter, shaking his head. _What do I do now?_ He had absolutely no idea what to do with the perishables. Ziva was off with some Mossad relations, McGoo was having a pleasant dinner with his sister and parents, and Ducky was probably having tea or something with his mother.

 _Gibbs,_ his mind supplied. He laughed out loud. "No way."

Ugh.

He glanced back at the items on the counter. A drip of water plopped off an ice cream carton and landed with a _splat_ on the tile.

Fine. Gibbs it is.

 _I can't believe I'm doing this._

* * *

Tony stood, drenched, on Gibbs' doorstep, holding two grocery bags of food. Unbeknownst to him, a second squall line was scheduled to arrive in D.C. _just_ as Tony had gotten into his car. He had gotten soaked just walking out from the lobby to the parking lot, and then soaked twice over walking from the curb where he had parked to the doorstep of Gibbs' house. He chewed nervously on his bottom lip, mulling his options.

Almost of its own accord, his hand reached out and knocked. Behind him, a bolt of lightning arced across the sky. Tony yelped and jumped and pounded on the door.

"What the hell, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled as the door opened.

Tony straightened and snapped to attention almost immediately. "Boss, uh, well, the storms last night, they knocked out my power, and well, I, my refrigerator won't work in without power, and I don't want my food to spoil and McGeek and everyone else are with family and um, well, here I am?"

"DiNozzo."

"Yeah, boss. It's okay. I'll buy some ice. Thanks, though. Uh, have a good Christmas."

" _DiNozzo."_

"Boss?"

"You look like a wet dog. Did you _walk_ all the way here?" Gibbs asked, a sliver of concern showing in his blue eyes.

"No, boss. It's just, there's a lot of rain. Isn't it supposed to _snow_ on Christmas?"

Gibbs smirked. "In your dreams, DiNozzo. Come in. You're dripping on my porch."

Tony looked back at the downpour and the flashes of lightning. "Not sure it really matters at this point, boss."

"Did it sound like a suggestion, DiNozzo."

A particularly loud rumble of thunder shook the ground. "On second thought, I think I'll take you up on that offer."

* * *

Gibbs looked down at his senior field agent, who was sleeping on the couch. He had loaned the man a pair of sweatpants and a USMC t-shirt, both of which were several sizes too big and hung off Tony. Once his food was safely lodged in Gibbs' fridge and he had stopped dripping water on the floor, Tony had relaxed, if only by a little bit. Gibbs was still disgruntled that after so long, Tony still felt like he was intruding on Gibbs whenever he visited.

Gibbs let a soft smile cross his face as Tony shifted, then settled. The man's hair was still damp from the torrential downpour, and it stuck up in spikes and curls, making Tony look much younger than he really was. Tony's tall frame barely fit on the couch. If Tony stretched out much farther, Gibbs realized, he would fall right off.

Tony started to squirm even more on the couch, face twisting as his body contorted. "Please, no, Daddy, no, please, please, stop, please!"

Gibbs' eyes widened and he ran over to the couch. "Hey, DiNozzo!"

"Daddy, I didn't mean to! Please! It hurts, Daddy! I'm sorry, please, stop, no, I'm sorry!"

"Hey! DiNozzo!" Gibbs commanded sharply. " _DiNozzo,_ _wake up!"_

Tony flew up in bed, soaked; however, this time in sweat. "Gibbs?"

"Hey, Tony," Gibbs said softly. "Hey."

"Sorry," Tony croaked. "I, uh, didn't mean for that to happen."

Gibbs opened his mouth to protest, but then noticed the wild, haunted look in Tony's eyes and decided not to press the issue.

Tony reached out for the TV remote and fiddled with the buttons until an image of a weather radar filled the grainy screen. "There will be thunderstorms for most of Christmas day," the anchor was saying. "Some may be severe. Please keep an eye on the Weather Channel. Thank you." The screen flipped to the Christmas Day basketball game: the Golden State Warriors against the Cleveland Cavaliers in a rematch of the NBA Championships. They watched silently for several minutes. A quiet voice started talking after about thirty minutes of the Cavs beating up on the Warriors.

"It was the first Christmas after my mom died. I was ten, maybe eleven," Tony began. "I had these two really good friends, Wade and Evan. Anyway, all I wanted that Christmas was for it to be a good one, y'know, the first one without Mom, so I invited Wade and Evan to come over for a couple hours on Christmas Eve to play some basketball, or something. I guess my dad wasn't feeling the Christmas spirit. He sure played the part of the good dad, though, even though I was pleading, _begging,_ for him to let my friends stay. He apologized, told them 'Anthony has other arrangements.' I didn't. And on the way out, Wade looked me straight in the eye and told me to go over to his house after school started. He knew what was going to happen. A month later, his dad got transferred to the base in Pensacola.

"As soon as the door closed, Dad started ranting in Italian. Even before Mom died, it never meant anything good when he did that. I knew what it all meant. He ordered me to go to his study; I did. I had to. He made me wait for about an hour in there. When he finally came in, he was drunk off his ass. On _Christmas Eve._

"I tried to get away, I really did. But fast as I was on the football field, I wasn't nearly fast enough to get away from him. He grabbed me. Started whaling on me, called me worthless, all that jazz. Told me it was my fault Mom had died. I think he tossed me out of his study another hour later. I don't think he stopped pounding me the whole time. So I dragged myself up to my room, laid on the bed, and cried myself to sleep on Christmas Eve.

"Y'know, I still have dreams about that night. I used to dream that Wade's dad would come in and save me from that study. Wade's dad was a commander in the Navy and I wanted to be just like him. I always dreamt that he came and got me out of there and I went to Pensacola with them. I still have those dreams at night. Except it's not Wade's dad anymore. It's you, boss. You've got my six, even when you're not even there," Tony finished, flushing a dark shade of red and ducking his head.

Gibbs' eyes widened. He looked over at Tony, whose shoulders were shaking in what he expected were silent sobs. He had never been good with words, much to Shannon's amusement. He had never been much of a touchy-feely guy after his girls died, much to his wives' dismay. Abby had been the only person he had hugged for real after they died.

So when he reached out his hand and laid it carefully on Tony's shoulder, he wasn't quite sure what he was expecting.

Although he _knew_ he wasn't expecting what happened next.

* * *

Tony wanted to die.

First he had shown up at his boss' house on _Christmas,_ no less, with a bag full of food. Then he had spilled one of his most carefully guarded secrets like he couldn't stop the words coming out of his mouth. To top it all off, here he was crying like a baby on Gibbs' couch.

He wanted to die.

Then he felt something he had never expected in the least: a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder, the thumb rubbing small circles into his collarbone.

"Boss," he whispered, turning to face the man. He expected contempt and disgust at his pathetic state in the man's eyes, but there was none. Only a surprising amount of concern and understanding that fully undid Tony.

He leaned into Gibbs' side, feeling warm arms encircle him, soaking Gibbs' shirt with his tears. Tony tried to control his sobs, but couldn't. Instead, Gibbs tightened his hold, rocking him back and forth while still soothing him.

Tony didn't want to die anymore.

* * *

Gibbs shushed Tony quietly, letting the boy cry himself out before carefully releasing him and staring him straight in the eyes.

"DiNozzo," he said, "what were your plans for today if the power hadn't gone out at your apartment?"

Tony rubbed his red and puffy eyes blearing before swallowing thickly. "Um, pizza. And _It's A Wonderful Life._ The movie. Also beer, I think. We have leave, right?"

"Tony, it's Christmas. 'Course we have leave," Gibbs grunted. "You weren't really just going to have pizza and beer on Christmas, were you?"

"Well, yeah, boss, I don't really have anyone else," he said.

"DiNozzo, look at me," Gibbs ordered.

Tony looked up.

"DiNozzo, what is the motto of the United States Marine Corps?"

Tony swallowed again. "Semper fi."

"Exactly. Semper Fi. Always faithful, yeah? You're one of mine, DiNozzo. The Marines _never_ leave a man behind. You are my man. I. Will. _Never._ Leave. You. Behind, understood?"

Tony's face split into a grin. "Got it, boss. Hey, I got you something!" Out of the sleeve of his sweatshirt (how he slept with it in there, Gibbs would never know,) Tony pulled a small wooden figure and handed it to Gibbs, his cheeks reddening slightly. "I made it."

Gibbs took the figure, twisting it in his hands. It was a dog, except this wasn't any ordinary dog. It was a bulldog, the mascot of the USMC. The dog was wearing the distinctive cover of a Marine Drill Sergeant, representing Gibbs' rank. The dog even had a rough carving of the eagle, anchor, and globe logo of the Marines on its side. "Tony, you made this?"

"Yeah! McBoy Scout was teaching his Junior McScouts how to carve, so I asked him for, um, help. It looks okay, right?"

Gibbs laughed. "Looks more than okay, DiNozzo. Thank you, Tony. I mean it."

Tony nodded seriously. "I know, boss. Hey, Merry Christmas, huh?"

"I didn't get you anything, Tony."

"You got me something already, boss. I don't need anything else."

"What?"

"Family, boss! You got me a family."

Gibbs' face broke into a grin of its own. "Hey, about that. My dad invited me to come up to Stillwater during our leave. You want to hitch a ride up there?"

"You'd let me?" Tony asked.

"Course, DiNozzo. Get packing."

"On it, boss!"


End file.
